The Tragedy of Shadefire and Shimmerpool
by phoenixagirl123
Summary: "For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo..." Perhaps, but now the classic Shakespearean tale takes place in the Forest of the Warrior Clans, generations before Firestar and his story. This rendition brings us the tale of feuding ThunderClan and RiverClan, battling over Sunningrocks. Welcome to the Clan's Verona.
1. Act 1, Scene 1, Part 1

A bright greenleaf sun stretched its paws over the edge of the trees, turning the sky above pink and cream. Dew sparkled like starlight in the shadows, cast beneath smooth, sun-warmed boulders.

The shape was little more than a flicker beneath the surface of the water, a mere quivering shadow against the lightness of the bottom of the river. Gorsepaw kept perfectly still, not a hair on his pelt twitching, waiting for the fish to come closer. Another flicker, less than a tail-length away, and Gorsepaw shot out one paw, his unsheathed claws slicing through the cold water. When he felt his paw curl around the fat, slick body, he curled his paw and sliced it towards him. The fish flew out of the water, scattering silver droplets, and landed on the bank beside him, where he finished it off with a swift blow.

"Hey, Scorchpaw!" The savory flavor of the fish danced upon his tongue, which he swiped across his muzzle. "Look what I caught!"

Scorchpaw ignored him. In the shadow of Sunningrocks he crouched, his fur bristling, his eyes glinting like amber. His tail twitched agitatedly, and even from his place beside the river, Gorsepaw could hear a growl rumbling threateningly in his throat.

"Sunningrocks is _ours," _he snarled, fangs bared. "ThunderClan have humiliated us once too many times." His eyes glimmered. "They _must_ be subdued. Once and for all."

Gorsepaw carried his fish over to Scorchfur and stood beside him. "Maybe you should focus less on fighting - and _trouble _- and more on hunting," he mewed lightly. His heavy white belly fur brushed against the ground.

Scorchpaw's mew was deep, and hoarse with rage. "I fight hardest when I'm angry," he muttered.

"Fish brain," Gorsepaw purred. "You're not as tough as you seem."

"One of those _dogs _makes me as angry as I'll ever need to be!"

Gorsepaw sighed. Scorchpaw was insisting upon acting all weird and serious. "Angry enough to run away, if you've got enough sense. The thing we need most is _not _more wounded warriors."

Sunningrocks used to be an island in the center of the river, which could only be reached by RiverClan due to their ability to swim. But one leaf-fall, a great flood came and changed the course of the river, so that it was now joined to ThunderClan's territories. Before the next sunrise, ThunderClan had claimed Sunningrocks as their own, swarming across the rocks to mark the new territory. The Clans had fought over the rocks many times since, and at the moment the scent markers lay on the far side of the rocks, keeping ThunderClan firmly out.

Gorsepaw stiffened as another scent drifted towards him on the breeze. He narrowed his eyes. Two ThunderClan cats were creeping along the edge of the trees, head and tail low. They were half hidden by the shadows cast by the treetops, but their leaner, sleeker-furred appearance was unmistakable.

A pale tabby turned his head, his eyes glinting coldly at Gorsebelly. With an arrogant flick of his ears, he put his paw against the border line. Gorsebelly felt his hackles rising.

"Scorchpaw," he hissed, brushing his white tipped tail along his friend's flank.

Scorchpaw's eyes widened in surprise. A hiss built in his throat, and he unsheathed his claws. "I'll back you up," he whispered.

"How? Turning your _back _and running off?" Gorsepaw's taunt sounded feeble.

Scorchpaw growled impatiently. "Don't worry about me."

Gorsepaw felt fear crawling through his fur. In the last battle against ThunderClan, Scorchpaw had nearly died from his wounds. A jagged, ugly scar now parted the fur along his flank, and Gorsepaw ran his tail across it. "No, really," he insisted. "I _am _worried about you!"

Scorchpaw winced when Gorsepaw's tail touched the furless flesh, but his amber eyes narrowed again. "Let's not start a fight," he meowed. "Let _them _start something."

The four warriors glared at each other for what was probably only a few heartbeats, but what felt like to Gorsebelly moons. Hatred glinted in their eyes. A bird nervously broke into song.

At the sound of the bird, both ThunderClan cats glanced at each other, ears pricked. Then simultaneously, they both slid back into the trees, fronds of bracken rustling behind them.

Scorchfur broke the silence with a snort. "Look at that. They're so cowardly that they didn't even _say _anything! ThunderClan cats are such drypaws-"

Both ThunderClan cats burst out of the trees, yowling wildly. Their paws drummed against the hard-packed earth. An old looking, very large crow flapped its way ahead of them, squawking. With a tremendous leap, the pale tabby tom reached for the bird with outstretched paws and missed by a mouse-length. The bird soared over the border, and the ThunderClan cats scrabbled to a stop against the scent line, hissing and spitting.

Gorsepaw ran towards the scraggly creature, but Scorchfur was already sprinting ahead of him. He sprang into the air, snagged the bird out of the air, and pinned it to the ground. Gorsepaw finished it off with a swift bite to the neck.

"You stole _our _bird!" The accusing yowl came from the pale tabby again. There was still a slight kit fuzz lining his face, and Gorsebelly sneered in satisfaction. _He looks like a kittypet!_

Scorchpaw puffed out his chest with pride. "I did catch a bird," he smirked. "And an impressive one, too."

The pale tabby fluffed out his fur until he looked like a pinecone. "But that was a _ThunderClan _bird!"

Scorchpaw stiffened, and Gorsepaw saw uncertainty flicker in his eyes. Scorchpaw leaned towards Gorsepaw and whispered, "Is it against the warrior code to have caught this bird?"

"Of course not," Gorsepaw replied, faintly surprised. "If it's on our side of the border, it's our bird."

Scorchpaw stood tall again, triumph in his mew. "There you are!"

Both ThunderClan cats yowled, "Prey stealers!"

Gorsepaw felt the fur on his shoulders rising. "Are you _trying _to start a fight?" he asked.

"Start a fight?" meowed the tabby apprentice sarcastically. "Oh, of course not."

"But if you are, I'm fine with that." Scorchpaw flexed his claws in anticipation. "Better than fine, in fact."

ThunderClan scent became stronger in the breeze. Gorsebelly opened his mouth to drink in smells and stiffened when he recognized the cat scent. A heartbeat later, a white, gray, and black tom stepped out of the brambles, his muscles rippling beneath his battle scarred pelt.

Gorsebelly pointed with his tail. "Look, here comes more ThunderClan," he hissed to Scorchfur. We must fight _now!"_

Scorchfur crouched down, and growl building in his throat, as he spotted the warrior. Suddenly he yowled, "Fight, if you are warriors!"

Gorsebelly's legs buckled as paws slammed onto his back. Burrsharp claws gripped his pelt. Instinctively, Gorsebelly rolled over, crushing his opponent beneath him. The cat gave a loud huff as the breath was knocked out of him, and Gorsebelly wriggled free.

Jumping to his paws, he spun around to face the pale tabby; the name Adderpaw flashed through his mind, but this wasn't a Gathering. Individual warriors didn't matter in a battle. Only winning did.

"Gorsepaw, remember how to slash! "Scorchpaw was tusseling with his opponent, who was caught in a paw lock and struggling fiercely. Gorsepaw hissed in annoyance. _He _should be worried about Scorchpaw, not the other way around!

Adderpaw leaped at him again, but this time Gorsepaw was ready. He ducked aside, spun around, and sank his claws into his back as he crashed into the ground. Adderclaw screeched in pain and flipped onto his side, scoring bloody trails along Gorsepaw's flank.

Snarling with rage, Gorsepaw whipped around, preparing to shred Adderpaw's ears, but before he could something white and black and gray barreled into him.

On unsteady paws, Gorsepaw crouched and stared up at the huge, battle-scarred ThunderClan warrior, his eyes the color of sunbaked sand. It was Birchclaw, one of the most respected – and feared – warriors in all the Clans.

Birchclaw raced over to where Scorchpaw and the ThunderClan she-cat were shrieking, locked in a whirling ball of teeth and claws, tufts of fur drifting through the air around them. With a single paw, Birchclaw swiped Scorchpaw's legs from beneath him and rolled him over. Birchclaw lunged for Scorchpaw's throat, but rather than biting into his neck, he grasped him by the scruff and dragged him a tail-length away through the dirt.

The ThunderClan she-cat hissed with satisfaction and leaped at Scorchpaw's exposed belly, but Birchclaw turned on her, hackles raised. _"Stop!" _he yowled. Panic was alight in his pale eyes. "Stop. Sheathe your claws. You don't know what you're doing."

"Don't bother fighting with these kittens."

Gorsebelly let out a small yelp as he turned around, tail rigid for fear. A menacing figure crouched in the shadows, looking upon them with eyes like yellow flame. He elegantly stepped into the light, his sleek fur gleaming. From the shadows emerged a black-pelted warrior, his whiskers dripping water from a recent swim across the river. His claws glinted like talons.

_Thank StarClan! _Gorsebelly neared purred. It was Darkfang, his mentor - and also possibly the most terrifying warrior in the claws. Thought Birchclaw was huge, he could find only distaste for the thick-pelted warrior. Obsessed with the warrior code and fearful of StarClan, the mouse-hearted thundercat might as well keep his tail tucked between his legs.

"Turn around, Birchclaw," Darkfang meowed silkily, his voice edging towards a hiss. "Turn around, and look upon your death."

Birchclaw spun about very slowly, digesting this turn of events calmly. The fur on his shoulders was deliberately laid flat, and his paws were round and smooth.

"I'm only trying to keep the peace," he meowed. "Sheathe your claws, or use them to help me stop this fight."

Gorsepaw sneered. _What a fox-hearted coward! Birchclaw has no honor. _Gorsepaw knew well of warrior honor - and it was no stoic indifference to pain or insults. One must always defend his honor whenever it is transgressed against, and this law was held with as much regard as the warrior code itself, and was essential to all warriors. And this Birchclaw... _Birchclaw's about to get shredded!_

"What?" Disgust tinged Darkfang's mew. "You attack my warriors and then talk of peace? I _hate _peace, like I hate _all _of ThunderClan." He sneered and bared his fangs. "And _you. _Fight, coward!"

Darkfang reared up and slammed his massive paws down on Birchclaw's spine. Birchclaw rolled over and raked a set of scratches into Darkfang's flank, leaving scarlet beads of blood. With a yowl, Darkfang whipped around and darted forwards. With perfect balance he aimed a swipe at Birchclaw's face, and Birchclaw howled as his blood splattered onto the ground.

Suddenly, a new scent bathed Gorsepaw's tongue. He turned around, but he wasn't quick enough. Claws sank into his shoulders. A ThunderClan warrior was on his back. Another warrior slipped underneath him and raked at his belly with thorn sharp claws. Gorsepaw yowled with rage. Panic rising, he tried to shake off the warrior on top of him while staggering away from the other, but one of them rolled and knocked him off his paws.

Suddenly, one of the ThunderClan cats gave a screech and rolled clumsily off of his back, blood dripping from her ears. The other warrior gave a hiss and squirmed away. Gorsepaw looked up to see Scorchpaw wrestling the tom. The other warrior batted him away, but Scorchpaw dived down and quickly bit the cat's forepaw. The ThunderClan cat gave a scream and wretched his paw away. Limping badly, he slipped away into the trees.

Gorsepaw gave Scorchpaw a grateful nod, but his friend had already flung himself into the battle. It amazed him how swiftly chaos had descended. More patrols from each Clan must have come, and Sunningrocks had become a whirl of teeth and claws and calls for blood. The rocks thrashed and rippled like a river full of salmon. Shrieks and screams issued from senior warriors howling out battle orders which permeated the clamor of the battle. "Strike! Beat them down!" "Down with RiverClan!" "Down with ThunderClan!"

Another RiverClan patrol was ascending from the water, with the thick-pelted, solid brown form of Acornstar among them. The other RiverClan warriors bounded up the slope and leaped into the battle without even shaking the water from their fur.

Acornstar sprang atop one of the tallest boulders, with his mate Blossomlight standing beside him. Her pure-white fur, still wet from her swim across the river, glimmered in the light of the greenleaf sun.

"What's going on?"Acornstar unsheathed his claws and lifted his head. "I must fight!"

Blossomlight weaved her way in front of him, lightly barring him from passing with her tail. "No, Acornstar," she murmured. "You are too frail. Please, stay here."

Gorsebelly suddenly sensed more paws drumming into the clearing. He whipped around to see ThunderClan cats swarming onto the rocks. A young apprentice, little more than a kit, stumbled blindly into him, and Gorsebelly satisfied himself with a quick slash across the ears before stepping back, allowing the apprentice to flee back into the trees.

Among this new patrol he spotted Molestar's well-groomed black pelt, and felt the fur on his shoulders rise. Acornstar's caterwaul rose above the shrieks and howls of the battle; "Look! Molestar is here. Now I _must _fight for my Clan!

Molestar crouched atop one of the boulders, surrounded by warriors flanking each side. "Crowstar!" he bellowed. "You tyrant!" He turned roughly to Flamebird, his mate, blocking his way, and nudged her with his broad shoulders. "Get out of the way, Flamebird!" he hissed.

Flamebird stepped gently on his paw. "I cannot let you leap blindly into danger," she mewed.

There were cats on all sides now, wrestling and shrieking, the world like a tangled bramble of Clans. Two ThunderClan warrior brushed against him, and Gorsepaw had no time to think about battle moves, about landing each blow perfectly. Instead he spun and slashed and snarled until the rocks blurred around him. Delicate ear skin caught under one of his claws, and with a wrench, he ripped his paw clear and felt a thin spray of blood land on his muzzle.

The battle was slowing; many cats were slumped sideways on the dewy grass, bleeding and motionless. But to Gorsepaw's horror, he spotted some of RiverClan's elders swimming choppily across the river. With their stiff limbs they clambered out and paced among the wounded warriors, ready to lash out at any cat who stirred.

_Great StarClan, _Gorsepaw thought. _Help us!_

"You rebellious subjects of StarClan!" someone yowled faintly from above. "You enemies to peace, you who disrespect the fellowship of the Clans!" The voice lowered, and Gorsepaw strained to hear. "Will they not listen?" Now his howl soared over the battling cats, so loud and deep Gorsebelly felt as if it reverberated within his bones.

"Stop!" The cat screeched. "Stop this battle!"

The clamor of the battle stopped as every cat turned to face the voice. A WindClan patrol stood atop the very tallest boulder, looking down at the bloodstained rocks. They parted to reveal Emberstar, the leader of the WindClan cats. A slight breeze ruffled his marbled pelt as he fixed his intense yellow gaze upon them.

"You fox-hearts, every one of you - you quench that fire of Clan pride and rage with mouse-brained, bloodstained battles! On pain of death, sheathe your bloody claws and hear WindClan's verdict!"

The distinctive _slink _of sheathing claws echoed through the rocks. Gorsepaw knew every cat was obeying. ThunderClan and RiverClan were each powerful in their own right, but WindClan had not been so strong since Windstar had reigned over them. Emberstar was, without a doubt, the most respected and legendary cat in all Clans, and some thought that in Clan lore he would never be forgotten. He had utterly demolished ShadowClan once, and ever since all Clans lived in fear of them.

"Three battles," he yowled. "Three pointless battles, bred by border skirmishes and raids and pride, all organized by you, old Acornstar and Molestar. Battles that have thrice disturbed the peace of our Clans, and forced even elders to leave their dens to wield old claws to part your cankered hate."

Emberstar suddenly looked up at the sky. Gorsepaw tipped his head back. A single, proud star resisted the light of the sun, and Gorsepaw shivered. _StarClan has been watching us. _

"If ever," Emberstar yowled, "you fight for Sunningrocks this way again..." Emberstar paused for a moment, blinking hard, and then his voice rose again in a fierce caterwaul. "Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace."

There were gasps and mutters from the onlooking cats, and Gorsepaw shifted his paws, his fur prickling uncomfortably all over. _Somehow, _he thought despondently, _it has come to this._

"This battle is over," Emberstar meowed loudly, too loudly through the eerily silent breeze. "All may depart."

Gorsepaw turned away heavily, the pain of his wounds only now reaching him. His back and shoulders were covered with scratches, and his belly felt battered and stiff. But as he limped wearily off, his ears pricked as Emberstar spoke again.

"You, Acornstar, shall go along with me," Emberstar ordered. Acornstar hesitated briefly, and then nodded. It was not wise to defy the strongest cat in the forest.

"And Molestar," Emberstar continued, "You come at sun-high to the Fourtrees." Before waiting for a reply, Emberstar sprang atop a boulder, his chest swelling as if with pride. "Once more, on pain of death, all depart!"

For the last time, Gorsepaw turned away from Sunningrocks. He padded heavily down to the shore, his Clanmates stalking beside him, but none left with a sense of dignity. Even Blossomlight, who was leading them, left her tail dragging limply in the dust, her eyes dull with defeat.

ThunderClan thought StarClan had moved the river for them, and that's why the river belonged to them. But Gorsepaw knew better. StarClan didn't give them that river – it was a curse, not a gift, and StarClan somehow must've been angry.

_StarClan, _he thought dimly, entering the river with neat, clean strokes. He spotted Scorchpaw erratically bobbing through the water, and behind him was a thin trail of blood. _StarClan can't help us anymore._


	2. Act 1, Scene 1, Part 2

**ALLEGIANCES**

**THUNDERCLAN**

LEADER: Molestar (Montague) – Large black tom

DEPUTY: Shadefire (Romeo) – Handsome flame colored tabby tom with one black paw

_Apprentice, Badgerpaw_

MEDICINE CAT: Pinefoot (Friar Lawrence) Hefty tabby tom

_Apprentice, Briarpaw_

WARRIORS: Flamebird (Lady Montague) – Ginger she-cat

Birchclaw (Benvolio) – Gray, white, and black spotted tom with blue eyes

_Apprentice, Adderpaw_

Mottledpelt (Mercutio) – Reddish tom with mottled black splotches

Roseleaf (Rosaline) – Pretty tortoiseshell she-cat

APPRENTICES: Briarpaw (Friar John) – Small dusky tom

Badgerpaw (Balthasar) – Small white tom with distinctive black stripes

Adderpaw (Abraham) – Pale tabby tom

**RIVERCLAN**

LEADER: Acornstar (Capulet) – Solid brown tom

DEPUTY: Ripplestone (Paris) – Handsome long haired gray tom with striking green eyes

_Apprentice, Patchpaw_

WARRIORS: Shimmerpool (Juliet) – Beautiful silvery white she-cat with deep blue eyes

Blossomlight (Lady Capulet) – White she-cat

_Apprentice, Scorchpaw_

Darkfang (Tybalt) – Sleek dark tabby with yellow eyes

_Apprentice, Gorsepaw_

APPRENTICES: Palepaw (Peter) – Pale reddish tom

Scorchpaw (Sampson) - Dark brown tabby tom with reddish flecks

Gorsepaw (Gregory) – Tabby tom with a long haired white belly

QUEENS: Aspenleaf (Nurse) – Cream colored tabby she-cat

**WINDCLAN**

Emberstar (The Prince) – Large marbled tom with amber eyes

As the Clans withdrew from the sun-warmed rocks, they left behind them bloodstained grass and russet boulders. Strewn across the ground were clumps of fur, grisly reminders of the battle. While RiverClan retreated into the river and their territory of willows and reeds beyond, a steady stream of ThunderClan warriors plodded and limped into the trees.

It felt as if every hair on Birchclaw's pelt ached, not that there was much left; he felt that if Darkfang had pulled out any more fur he'd look like an eel.

The forest itself seemed like a mystery to Birchclaw; nothing was real. He felt as if the trees and rocks could dissolve into mist within a moment. A vast, unnatural silence covered everything. With the rational part of his mind Birchclaw realized that all the prey had been scared away by the ferocity of the battle, but still numb with shock it seemed that StarClan was somehow giving them a sign, through this noiseless world.

Birchclaw began to pad heavily back towards camp, following his fellow warriors, but the burn of piercing amber eyes on his shoulder gave him pause. He turned to the sight of Molestar standing at the edge of the trees, signaling to him with his tail. Flamebird stood beside the black-pelted leader, blood pouring heavily from a nasty nick in her ear, and she held up one paw, as if a claw had been snagged. Molestar himself was smeared and stained crimson, but Birchclaw knew that much of the blood was not his own.

When Birchclaw reached them, Molestar sighed heavily. Clumsily he sat, and drew his thick-pelted tail over his bloodstained paws.

"Who started this old fight up again?" he mumbled wearily. "Speak, nephew. Were you here when it began?"

Birchclaw closed his eyes, remembering how it had begun. _A simple skirmish became a battle for blood, _he thought bitterly. Swallowing down his resent, he meowed, "Some RiverClan apprentices, and some of ours, they were fighting just before I arrived. I was hunting, and when I saw them I ran to part them. And at that instant came that fox-hearted Darkfang, with his claws sharpened and battle-ready..." Again he had to force his claws to stay sheathed; he found his weary paws sudden itching for another fight. "And then he attacked me. As we were trading blows, soon came more and more patrols from both Clans. Till WindClan came, of course, which parted us all."

Flamebird groaned softly. "Oh, where is Shadefire?" she mewed anxiously. "Did you see him today? I'm quite glad he was not at this battle."

Birchclaw nodded slightly. "Firebird, a little while before the sun rose, a troubled mind drove my paws to a hunt, and underneath the Great Sycamore, I saw your son. I went towards him, but he was aware of me and stole into the woods.

_And I thought he must be feeling the same way I was, wanting to be alone yet tired of my own company. _Birchclaw shook away the dismal thought. His own personal turmoil was something he had to deal with himself.

"I thought he must be avoiding me," Birchclaw continued._And I gladly shunned Shadefire, who gladly fled from me. _With his ears he flicked away the bleak thought. "And so I kept to myself," he finished vaguely.

Molestar exhaled, but Birchclaw could not tell if it was out of relief or distress. "He is quite... distraught," Molestar admitted, his tufted ears pressing despondently against his head. Birchclaw knew about that; many mornings he had been seen with eyes glistening like fresh morning's dew. He sighed so often and so deeply that Birchclaw felt that he could make a whole storm cloud out of sighs.

"And," continued Molestar dismally, "at every sunrise, away from the light steals my unhappy son. Alone in the warrior's den he hides, cowering in his nest, locking the daylight out and making himself a fake night." Molestar's gaze swept suddenly over the bloodstained Sunningrocks, scanning the dark river with a dullness in his eyes that sent shivers down Birchclaw's spine.

"Dark and ominous must this temper of his prove, unless..." He looked pointedly at Birchclaw. "Unless someone smart can fix it."

Birchclaw could sense the desperation in Molestar's voice, and he suppressed a sigh. His own inner turmoil would have to wait. Shadefire, after all, was destined to become leader, and it was dangerous for him to become so uninvolved in his Clan's affairs.

"My noble uncle," Birchclaw meowed. "Do you know the cause?

"I neither know it, nor will he tell me."

"Have you done everything you could to make him tell you?"

"I've tried myself, and many other warriors as well. But he keeps his thoughts to himself – I cannot say how true a friend he is to himself, but he to himself he does keep his secrets close, far from discovery. If we could learn from where his sorrows grow, we would quite willingly give him every cure for it we knew.

Another scent wafted towards them on the dry breeze, and Birchclaw tipped his head. A moment later, Birchclaw spotted a shadowed figure, obscured by fronds of bracken about three fox-lengths away. A flash of flame-colored fur sparkled in the watery greenleaf light.

"Look, here he comes," Birchclaw whispered. He gave Molestar a quick, respectful nod. "Please, step aside. I'll know his grievance, or I'll be quite denied."

"I hope you'll be lucky enough by staying to hear the true story – come, Flamebird, let's go." Molestar gave her forehead a fond lick, and she gave a hoarse purr in return as he offered her his broad shoulder. Holding up one of her forepaws, Flamebird leaned against him and hopped her way clumsily into the forest. They passed through a group of slender birch trees and then disappeared from view.

Shadefire stepped from the shadows into the shaft of sunlight piercing the thick treetops. His muscles rippled and rolled beneath a thick, ginger tabby pelt. His eyes gleamed passionately, bright and observant. His left forepaw stepped upon the foliage, colored jet black. He was, as Birchclaw could only grudgingly admit, a handsome specimen.

"Good morning, cousin," he meowed, padding over to his friend and brushing his own tail along Shadefire's flame-colored spine.

An expression of puzzlement swarmed across Shadefire's face. "Is it really so early?"

"Not even sunhigh."

Shadefire sat, as though defeated in some way, though he lifted his glistening eyes to the sky. "Oh!" he meowed. "Time goes so slowly when you're sad. Was that my father who left from here so fast?"

"It was," Birchclaw confirmed. "What sadness lengthens your days?"

Shadefire now hung his head, and suddenly seemed fascinated with his paws. "I don't have the thing that makes time go quickly," he muttered.

Birchclaw flicked his ears. A sliver of amusement warmed his heart, but he tried to retain a serious composure. "You're in love?"

"Out," answered Shadefire dully.

Birchclaw shook his head, confused. "Out of love?" he mewed questioningly.

"Out of_her _favor," Shadefire meowed dryly, "while I'm in love with her.

Birchclaw licked his friend's ear comfortingly. "It's sad," Birchclaw sighed, "that love, so gentle looking, should be so tyrannous and rough in truth."

"It's sad that love, which should be blind, can still, without eyes, bend your will!" His answer had begun as a retort but trailed off in passive silence. He lifted his pure black paw and licked it, but aimlessly. Then he stood and began to pad off, back towards Sunningrocks. Birchclaw scrambled after him.

"Shall we hunt?-" Shadefire's question stopped short as he peered out at Sunningrocks from the brambles.

The heat of the air had quickly done away with the dew, and the blood had dried on the rocks, turning them a ghastly scarlet. A blazing sun shone glaringly in a copper sky. No breeze rustled the reeds, and only the scent of blood and illness welcomed them. Shadefire shuddered in horror and closed his eyes, turning his head away as if ashamed.

"Oh, StarClan!" he whimpered. "What fight happened here?"

Birchclaw opened his mouth, but Shadefire drew a thick-furred tail over his muzzle. "Don't tell me. I know already. This battle has much to do with hate but more with love. Oh brawling love! Oh loving hate! Oh, love that comes from nothing! Oh, sorrowful happiness, oh serious vanity! Misshapen chaos made from beautiful things! It is a feather and a rock, bright and yet smoke, cold and yet fire, sick and yet healthy, awake and yet asleep; it is everything but what it is! This is the love I feel, though no one loves me back. Are you laughing?"

It was true; by the time Shadefire had begun talking about "brawling love" Birchclaw was suppressing the onslaught of laughter building up in his throat like a tangle of brambles. Birchclaw tried to keep his nose from twitching. "No, cousin, I'd rather weep."

Shadefire turned about swiftly, concern bright in his eyes. "Birchclaw, for what?"

Birchclaw flattened his ears, slightly startled at the intensity of Shadefire's gaze. "At your own sorrow."

Shadefire sighed again, and Birchclaw prepared himself to hear another lengthy speech. "Why, such is love's way. My griefs lie heavy in my heart, to which, your own sorrows you will add. You add more grief to mine, which is already too much. Love is a smoke made from lover's sighs; when it is purged, a fire sparkles in lover's eyes; Being vexed, a lake is formed with loving tears. What else is love? A guarded madness, a restrained impudence, and a tart sweetness. Farewell, my cousin."

Somehow, Shadefire's oration was no longer so amusing; Birchclaw could see his heart was mourning deeply, for reasons Birchclaw himself could not quite comprehend. Shadefire turned away, his eyes bright, but with anguish rather than any sort of lightheartedness. Birchclaw could bear it no longer.

_Thistles and thorns, what am I getting into? _Birchclaw shook his head clear of doubt and quickly trotted over to his friend. "Wait!" he meowed. "I will go along with you." Birchclaw hoped he looked stern. "And if you just _leave _me, you do me wrong."

"Furball." Shadefire closed his eyes. "I have lost myself. I am not here. This is not Shadefire. He's away somewhere." His tail thudded onto the ground, and a tiny plume of dust erupted aroun it.

Birchclaw moaned inwardly. _A mouse on the moor could've heard his tail drop! _"Tell me, in your sadness, who it is that you love," Birchclaw mewed guardedly.

Shadefire groaned. _Please don't, _Birchclaw thought. "A sick cat cannot be told, in his sadness, to speak his last words; that is quite ill advised for someone so ill. In sadness, cousin, I do love... a she-cat."

Birchclaw stifled his urge to laugh. "I kind of guessed that already."

"Good job," Shadefire muttered sarcastically. Then angst seemed to permeate his eyes again. "And she's beautiful, the one I love."

"Those who are beautiful, cousin, are taken the fastest."

"Not exactly." Birchclaw tipped his head to one side and listened. "_She'll _not be smitten. She's as witty as StarClan, but well armed with chastity from love's weak childish ways; she isn't charmed. She won't listening to my many loving words, nor accept being looked at with loving eyes, nor allow me to grant her gifts of prey and pretty stones. Oh, she is rich in beauty, yet poor, because when she joins StarClan her beauty will die with her.

Birchclaw rolled his eyes. He thought Shadefire was being silly; if a she-cat didn't want to take a mate, that was her choice. But now to Shadefire it seemed like the end of the world was coming. "Then she has sworn that she will be chaste?"

Shadefire's voice rose to a quiet wail. "She has, and in doing so, creates huge waste! For beauty, made meaningless with her severity, cuts beauty off from the generations that could have been! She is too lovely and too wise to merit StarClan's blessing by making me despair. She has sworn off love, and that vow has left me living yet dead, living only to tell you now.

Shadefire had always been painfully overdramatic, but now this bee-brained misery made Birchclaw worry, a habit which he probably did far too much of. In fact, he considered himself less of a "warrior" and more of a "worrier."

"Take my advice," Birchclaw suggested. "Forget about her."

Shadefire eyed him dryly. "Oh, teach me how I should forget to think!" he yelped.

"Do it by giving freedom to you eyes," he mewed. "Examine other beauties." _Of which there are plenty._

"That will only make me think of how much more exquisite she is!" he yowled angrily. "Beautiful she-cats often hide their faces, and let us think of how lovely they are beyond the shadows. He who becomes blind cannot forget the once precious treasure of his eyesight. Now show me a really stunning she-cat; her beauty serves as but a reminder of where I may see someone far more enchanting. Farewell. You cannot teach me to forget.

Birchclaw shook his head. If there was anything he liked, it was a challenge; it made him forget about his own troubles.

"I'll prove you wrong," he meowed. Shadefire was trudging unhurriedly into the trees, branches crunching loudly beneath heavy paws. Birchclaw stalked beside him. "Oh, I'll prove you wrong, or else I'll die in debt."


	3. Act 1, Scene 2, Part 1

An aching greenleaf sun burned overhead. Acornstar flicked his tail in annoyance, as if to swat the heat away, as he and Ripplestone trotted along the well-trodden grass track leading away from the sedges and between thick bushes in RiverClan's camp. Palepaw scrambled to keep up, his legs comically stubby and short. In comparison to the muscular warriors, he appeared downright puny.

Acornstar navigated around a gnarled willow, continuing his conversation. "...but Molestar is as bound as I am, to our penalty alike. And it's not hard, I think, for cats as old as us to keep the peace."

"Honorable reputations... is something both Clans share." Ripplestone's mew was quiet and politely disinterested. Dread prickled in Acornstar's throat; his deputy was as predictable as a rock, and he knew with certainty what was coming next. "And it's a pity we've lived at odds for so long." Ripplestone's bright green eyes suddenly sparked with interest. "But now, Acornstar, what do you say to my request?"

They had crossed the clearing; Acornstar stepped softly into his den, woven into the roots of an ancient willow. It glimmered with reeds, feathers, and sparkling stones. Ripplestone followed. As Palepaw began shuffling in, Ripplestone looked back meaningfully. Palepaw shrank back, hot-furred with embarrassment.

"I can only say what I have said before," murmured Acornstar. "My daughter is yet a kitten to this world. She's barely moved out of the apprentice den. Let two more seasons pass, at least, before we think her ready to take a mate."

Only Ripplestone's twitching tail showed his impatience. "Others younger than her have become happy queens."

"And those who mate so soon grow up too fast. StarClan has taken much of my hopes, beside her." For a moment, Acornstar was swept beneath the waves of his tragic past, ridden with strife and suffering, but quickly he shook it away. "But you may woo her, gentle Ripplestone, and get her heart. My permission, of course, is but a part of the decision. If she agrees to this, my consent will confirm her words."

Another thought came to Acornstar. "Tonight is the Gathering," he meowed. "And much of RiverClan will come. Most welcomely, of course, I'll add one more," looking playfully at Ripplestone. He nodded his thanks.

Gatherings brought much excitement to RiverClan, more that what was usual. Ever since the rivalry between ThunderClan and RiverClan had escalated, almost every Gathering had ended in a battle. The medicine cats had brought them a message from StarClan; ThunderClan and RiverClan must not meet. Thus, RiverClan would go to one Gathering, and ThunderClan to the next. In this way, conflict was avoided, and Gatherings became an occasion that was much looked forward to.

"You'll be quite... comforted, as young warriors often do, when well-groomed she-cats, fresh as newleaf, emerge from leaf-bare gusts of snow." Acornstar had been often likened as a better storyteller than most of the elders, and could whip up a detailed, intriguing line faster than a rabbit could run. It wasn't out of the ordinary that Acornstar often spoke rather flamboyantly.

"Perhaps at the Gathering, while you hear everything, and everything is seen, and see perhaps a she-cat who's merit will be... You shall have many to choose from, and my daughter is one of many, and perhaps you will find my daughter is not the best for you. Come, go with me."

Acornstar knew he extended much parental influence over his daughter. A tom might be forced into fights because of Clan rivalry, but a she-cat was far more constrained. Acornstar knew that regardless of any inter-Clan strife, he could force his daughter to be mates with whomever he wanted. Such was the difference between being a tom and a she-cat among the Clans. It might seem a worse thing to be caught up in the violence of a battle, but his daughter's role in the Clan left her with no power or choice. She would be passed from the control of one tom to another.

Acornstar knew all of that, but was the way it had always been; and regardless he tried to be kind-hearted towards his daughter, and he did tried to defer to her ability to choose for herself. But yet, Acornstar's power to force her into claiming a mate was implicitly present, and with this power came the potential to alter fate.

Acornstar felt his fur bristling uncomfortably as he exited his nest, Ripplestone close behind. _What a fish-brain I am. _No matter how uneasy such thoughts made him, it had always been this way, and wasn't about to change.

Palepaw still lingered outside the den. His eyes stretched wide as Acornstar addressed him with the flick of the tail, and he instinctively crouched.

"Go," Acornstar ordered, "I believe Mallowtail, Antshade, and Pebblespots are on patrol. Find them and tell them that they're going to the Gathering."

Palepaw's eyes pricked. "Who else is going?" he mewed.

"My niece Roseleaf, Leafpelt, Darkfang, Loudbreeze, Hailfoot..." Acornstar continued listing cats rather absentmindly, murmuring them dreamily, until an amused look from Ripplestone jolted him from his thoughts. "Erm, um, go along now. It does not concern you."

Palepaw scurried out of camp, his tail stick straight in the air. Acornstar hid his embarrassment by giving his ruffled belly fur a few licks.

Ripplestone purred. "Apprentices," he muttered. "Always so very curious."


	4. Act 1, Scene 2, Part 2

The forest stirred with life at every turn. Birds chittered loudly through the trees and zipped through the undergrowth. The trees murmured and rustled in the wind, their leaves lush and green. The grass was soft and springy beneath Birchclaw's paws.

They walked along the burbling, lapping river. Every once in a while, Birchclaw spotted the iridescent scales of a fish glimmer in the scorching sunlight. It was past sunhigh, but the sun still shone brightly. The breeze was refreshing and cool. Sunlight gleamed through the leaves, casting rippling patterns onto the earth. The air was laden with scents of prey and greenleaf and life.

Somehow Shadefire seemed unaware of it all. Birchclaw would have felt useless, padding around and trying to comfort his friend on a good day for hunting, but the mice had practically walked into his paws, and he had managed to catch and bury three without even trying. Shadefire had halfheartedly swatted at a robin, letting it fly away without so much a squeak of protest.

"Shadefire," he meowed, "A fire burns out another blaze. A pain is lessened by another anguish. If you get dizzy, you help yourself by spinning the other way. Your desperate grief can be cured by another languish. Give yourself a different lovesickness, and the rank poison of the old one will die." Birchclaw sighed; somehow Shadefire's poetic talk must have gotten to him. _Like a disease._

"Goldenrod is excellent for that," Shadefire whispered.

Birchclaw blinked. "F-for what, I ask?" he stuttered.

"For healing wounds."

_He's crazier than a fox in a fit! _"Why Shadefire, are you mad?" Birchclaw hissed._Is he talking about lovesickness? Or is he talking about actual wounds?_

"Not mad," Shadefire clarified, "but more bound than an elder is. Shut up in the prison of my Clan, kept starving or with crow-food, scratched and tormented-"

Shadefire paused in what would have most likely been a deeply disturbing speech. Birchclaw had been so stunned his hind legs had buckled, and he had literally sat with a thump. Birchclaw felt like his mind was a drowning kit, flailing and floundering helplessly in this terrifying weirdness of Shadefire's brain.

Birchclaw, feeling quite helpless, followed Shadefire's gaze across the river. Along the shoreline, a patrol of RiverClan cats crouched, sniffing. Shadefire looked on with interest, his green eyes gleaming.

Suddenly, out of the willows and reeds tumbled a pale gray apprentice. The three patrolling warriors looked back, clearly amused. Chuckles drifted through the air.

"Nice day, Palepaw, isn't it?" snickered one.

"May StarClan make it so," puffed the apprentice. "Acornstar sent me to tell you you're going to the Gathering."

Another one pricked her tufted ears. "That's nice," she mewed. "Who else?"

Palepaw flattened his ears on his head. "Please, don't _mock _me! You know I don't have the greatest memory!"

"I'll remember," Shadefire whispered suddenly. "I remember my own fortune in my misery."

Across the river, more laughter arose. Palepaw drew himself up as high as he could, which wasn't much. "Maybe you have learned how to remember stuff without trying. Let me see, let me see..."

"Yes, if I know the customs," Shadefire muttered again.

A torrent of taunts and jeers erupted from the patrolling cats, and finally Palepaw yowled "Well then! You're honest – honestly not going to help me! May StarClan banish _all _of those nasty fleas from your nest!"

" Stay, apprentice!" meowed one. "I'm smart. Start from the beginning... Mallowtail and his mate and daughters, Antshade and his _beautiful _sisters, late Vinethorn's mate, Pebblespots and his _lovely _nieces..." From how the other cats laughed, Birchclaw guessed that this tom just liked pretty she-cats – like Shadefire.

"Voletail, Acornstar's uncle with his wife and daughters, his _stunning _niece Roseleaf, and Leafpelt, Vixentail and his cousin Darkfang, Loudbreeze and the... _lively _Hailfoot."

Shadefire had stiffened as soon as he heard Roseleaf's name; his eyes had grown rounder than the moon, and they sparked with the fire of desire. "A nice group," he mumbled. "Where are they going again?"

"Up," Birchclaw whispered back.

"Where?" Shadefire murmured. "For what?"

Birchclaw rolled his eyes. _This is pointless! _"To the Fourtrees, you mouse-brain!"

"For what?"

"For StarClan's sake, the _Gathering!"_

Shadefire suddenly looked sheepish, and he shuffled his paws. "Naturally, I should have asked you whose turn it was before."

Birchclaw coughed, masking an annoyed snigger. "Now I'll tell you without you asking. It's the great, esteemed RiverClan, and if you're not of ThunderClan, oh _please _come and have some fun! May StarClan light your path!"

Birchclaw's sarcasm drew a wisp of a chuckle out of Shadefire, and Birchclaw sighed. _Shadefire can be so bee-brained sometimes._

The noise of cracking reeds erupted from across the river, and Birchclaw glanced back to see the patrol strolling back into the territory once again, Palepaw crossly bickering with them and inducing howls of laughter.

Birchclaw looked back excitedly at Shadefire. "At this Gathering – lovely Roseleaf, who you so love, is going! And right along with all the beauties of the forest. Go there, and with an objective eye compare her face with other she-cats I shall show you, and you'll think your Roseleaf swan a crow!"

Shadefire shook his head vigorously. "When my eyes, devout to her, give me such falsehood, then let my tears turn to fire, and – they are often tearfully drowned, so never die – let them be burnt for being such obvious liars! One fairer than my love? StarClan itself has never seen such as her worth since the Clans began."

"Come on, you saw her as beautiful when no one else was around! But let your eyes compare your love to some other shining she-cat at the Gathering. You'll think she scant in comparison to the best-"

"I'll go along, but a finer she-cat cannot be shown. I'll rejoice in the splendor of my own."

Birchclaw turned away, signaling to Shadefire to follow. _Ironic, _he thought, _that a foolish apprentice invites two ThunderClan cats to the Gathering while it'a a given that none of ThunderClan are invited._

The first shadows of dusk began to outline the sky; the smoldering sun had already begun its descendant. The comfortable coolness of the night began to settle upon the forest. Birchclaw's thoughts turned in another direction. _Shadefire, of course, is still lovelorn for Roseleaf. But things are about to change. _Shadows lengthened and twisted beneath barbed brambles and stone. _Somehow I feel... the rustling of approaching fate._


End file.
